


Please, Sammy.

by ballsdeepinwinchesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballsdeepinwinchesters/pseuds/ballsdeepinwinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wasn't too drunk to realize his thoughts (his "feelings") were wrong. <i>Sammy's your brother for Christ's sake. Not to mention he's about to take off for Stanford, leave you behind and never look back tomorrow.</i> He was too drunk, however, to stop them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please, Sammy.

Sam lay sprawled out (in just his boxers) on his stomach on the (dingy) motel bed, only partially under the (dirty) blankets. Dean found a note on the bedside table when he had gotten back from the bar. _“Got tired of waiting up.” And doesn’t that just make me feel so much better?_

Dean was trying to deal with his feelings (or whatever) about Sam leaving him by (doing what he does best) going to the bar and getting plastered, probably taking some 7-at-best girl back to her place and working out some tension. He’s succeeded in the first two tasks, but he couldn’t go through with the last. Instead, he came back to the motel room. He came back to Sammy.

Sam’s always been the one constant in his life. His brother, his pseudo-son (if he was honest), and his best friend. He was the one who raised him, nobody else. Dean was the one who made sure he was fed (by any means necessary). And now Sammy was going to finally get what he wanted- get out of the business, get away from Dad, get away from him. _And isn’t that just a bitch?_ And maybe Dean wanted to cry (maybe he did), maybe he wanted to let Sam go because he deserved to be free, but maybe he was too selfish for that. _Alone, abused, empty- you’re nothing without Sammy._

Dean just couldn’t help himself anymore. So many thoughts have come into his mind ever since Sam turned 16 and after he’d hit puberty like a freight train. Long, tight, tan, muscular skin glistening with sweat after going through drills with Dad. The first time he let his eyes linger (on the little dimples in the small of his back where the sweat had started pooling right above the swell of his ass, just covered with some boxers and sweatpants hung a little too low) he knew he was a goner. Every day since then, he thought about Sam. Twining his fingers in that mop of hair, tugging on it and making Sam’s breath hitch. Kissing and licking and sucking every last inch of skin on his entire body, never missing a spot. Kissing his soft, pink mouth. Just touching him like he wants to so badly, like he needs it.

And so he does. Tentatively, Dean reached out in front of him to Sam’s sleepy body. He placed his hand on his shoulder (firm and muscular, but nothing they haven’t touched before) but Sam didn’t stir. Dean stroked his thumb back and forth and sighed. Dean got to his knees beside the bed so he wouldn’t risk falling over and landing on him when he swayed. Dean slowly let that hand move over the broad sweep of his shoulders and down to the small of his back. A muffled little contented sigh came from the pillows and Sam nuzzled into the bed, his ass wiggling with the rest of his body. Dean closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. The blankets were already right at Sam’s thighs so the (thin, worn) cloth of the boxers and how they were pulled over his ass were a foot away in front of his eyes. _Not yet._

Dean stood up and took off his (Dad’s) leather jacket, his shirt, and his boots and jeans. As softly as he could, he climbed onto the (squeaky) bed and straddled Sam’s thighs, careful not to wake him. Sam stirred a little but, but he still wouldn’t wake. _Sam always has been a heavy sleeper._ And that definitely awakened memories of jerking off two feet away from Sam under his own covers, only ever thinking of his brother (and how wrong and dirty it was), but he couldn’t stop. Dean let his hands graze over the (tight) muscles in the top of his back, dip a little over his shoulders and down his (growing) biceps and then down his flank. Sam sighed again and his ass lifted subconsciously, rubbing against Dean’s (clothed, straining) dick. Dean closed his eyes and breathed. Dean let his hands sweep down his back and up over the firm meat of his ass. Dean had to fight back a whimper because it was taking every restrain in his body to not fuck Sam (who was still unconscious). He leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to Sam’s shoulder before starting to move closer in to his spine, kissing along the way. Sam moaned a little and jostled Dean again. Dean closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Sam’s back.

The (growing) hair at the base of his head wasn’t too long to hide the skin of his neck. Dean kissed the back of his neck, and the side, and he couldn’t stop moving. His hips began rolling forward and he let his hands do whatever they wanted, go anywhere. He licked and began to suck on the side of Sam’s neck and he moaned again, stirring even more. The muscles in his back tightened and Dean knew he had woken up. He pulled back just enough for Sam to lift his head off the pillow groggily. “Dean-?”

“Sammy,” he breathed onto Sam’s skin with another kiss. He really couldn’t stop if he wanted to.

Sam lifted himself up onto his arms and tried to turn and face Dean who was still straddling the backside of his thighs. “Dean, what are you doing? What time is it?”

“Please.” Dean was on the brink of tears and he didn’t feel it until Sam had said his name. He didn't know what he was begging for, but he hoped Sam did.

“Dean, what’s wrong?”

_Me, this, you, us, our life._ “Everything.” Sam rolled over onto his back and sat up, Dean still straddling one of his legs. Sam reached out and placed his hand to the side Dean’s face, sweeping his thumb over his cheekbone (and wiping away a tear). Dean pulled Sam’s face down and pressed their foreheads together. “Please, Sammy.”

“What are you asking for?” _For you to let me have this, for you to stay with me forever._ Sam stroked his thumb over Dean’s cheek again and looked at him. Dean’s eyes were closed, but he always got a chill when Sam looked at him. His body always had a way of knowing. “What do you want?”

_Your body, your mouth, your skin, your stupid face, your big brain, your heart, your love, for you not to go to California- you forever._ “You.” Sam’s breath hitched a little, but he still didn’t move. “Please, Sammy. _Please._ ” Sam nodded and leaned forward, sealing their lips together.

Dean clutched at him (desperately), trying to get so close to him, they would melt into one person. Sam grabbed the one of Dean’s legs that were between his and pulled it to the other side of his lap so he was straddling Sam completely. Sam’s (big, strong) hands held his face (so firmly), and his thumbs (so gentle) over his cheekbones and his eyelids. Dean needed (everything) so badly, he rolled his hips into Sam’s and mewled into the kiss. Sam nodded again and rolled them over so Dean was on his back, covered by Sam. Sam kissed his mouth, his eyes, his cheeks, his neck.  _This isn’t how it was supposed to be._  “Sammy- I was- you- and- me- I have to-”

Sam picked his head back up and locked eyes with Dean before giving him a comforting kiss. “Shhh, I’ve got you,” he whispered.  _I was supposed to have_ you _. Like I always have. Like I always will. Even if you won’t be here to have me in return._ Instead, Dean nodded and Sam kissed him again.

Sam slid his fingers beneath the cloth of Dean’s boxers and began to pull them down. Dean let out another broken sob and held onto Sam tighter. Sam removed his own and threw them both to the side. When he slotted their hips back together, Dean knew it was game-over. _Nothing else in the entire world could ever live up to Sammy, and if this moment is all we would have, then we’re going to have it._ Sam lifted one of Dean’s thighs and placed it around his hip. Dean immediately took the other one and did the same. Sam’s mouth on his was his entire reason for living- Sam was his world.

“Are you sure you want this, Dean?” _I’ve only ever wanted this, Sammy. Only ever wanted you. Only you._ Instead of saying anything, he nodded and clutched at Sam’s shoulders harder. Sam brought three fingers into his mouth and wet them. He brought his hand between Dean’s thighs and down to his hole. Dean choked back another sob and kept his eyes open to watch Sam watching him. He never wanted to take his eyes off Sam until the very last breath he took. When Sam circled his finger over it before pressing inside, Dean whimpered again. Sam stilled his finger (still at the first knuckle) and kissed him gently. “Tell me if you need me to stop.” _Never ever stop, Sammy._ Dean nodded again and squirmed his hips.

Everyone else who has been where Sam is never took care of him like this- sometimes they would ever skip it entirely and Dean would have to sleep on his stomach for a week. But right now, it’s Sammy, and it’s all okay. _For tonight._ Sam pressed his finger all the way in and began to move in and out, moving Dean right along with the movements, his eyes never leaving Sam’s face. Sam added another finger and Dean moaned, muffled by Sam’s lips on his. He moved his fingers a little faster, a little more insistent and scissored them to stretch him more. “Sammy,” he breathed.

“I know.” The spot inside him was found and rubbed, making Dean’s back arch and for him to make a noise that was probably not too manly. Sam pressed in his third finger, and rested his forehead on Dean’s. Sweat plastered his (stupid) bangs to his forehead and he breathed Dean’s name.

“Please, Sammy.” Sam pulled his fingers out slowly and lined himself up with Dean’s hole. Just the pressing was hot and big and everything Dean had been waiting for and wanting for so long. Sam let out a long groan when he pressed inside, and Dean tried to grab onto him tighter. Maybe if he held on tight enough, Sam couldn't leave.

Sam eased himself in slowly, leaning up and kissing Dean again, both of them stifling moans. He paused after he was fully sheathed to allow Dean to adjust. “Are you ready?” 

_Not ready for you to leave. Not ready to be alone. Not ready for you to move on and leave me to rot._ Dean breathed for a second and nodded, wrapping his arms tighter around Sam’s neck, twining his fingers in his (stupid) hair, and locking his feet. “Please.”

Sam pulled his hips back slightly and pressed back forward, making Dean’s breath hitch. He did it again, but greater distance and a little more force. Dean held on tighter and kissed Sam’s name into his lips. Sam set up a slow pace, but with forceful thrusts, each one knocking the breath out of Dean. _Take every breath away. I don’t want to live without you. I don’t want to have to try._ “Please, Sammy.”

Dean’s tears were rolling down his face because he couldn’t hold them back anymore. Sam kissed every one of them and cooed “shhh” softly over and over. But Dean couldn’t stay quiet. There was so much inside of him and he couldn’t repress any of it.

“Sammy- mmm, Sammy- pl-please. I- I need- ne-need-” (“Shhh, I’ve got you.”) “No, Sa-Sam-my. I ne-need- I need y-you.” (“Shhh.”) “I need y-you, Samm-my. I n-need you.” (“Shhh, Dean, it’s okay.”) “Need you s-so mu-mu-much, S-S-Sammy. Pl-please.” (“Shhh.”)

Sam reached between them and stroked Dean’s (on the verge of exploding) erection in time with his thrusts. Dean’s eyes welled up with tears so much, he could barely see Sam, but he still didn’t want to look away. He blinked them out of his eyes and moaned Sam’s name while looking at Sam’s face and having Sam inside of him and around him and on him- “ _Sammy_.” Dean came hot between them, his whole body shaking and quivering, cheeks burning and wet, Sam’s name on his tongue, in his head. Sam followed him with two more thrusts and a whisper of his name into his skin.

Sam laid still on top of him, both taking time to catch their breaths ( _What’s the point?_ ). He eased himself out gently, and Dean whimpered. He never wanted Sam to move an inch, afraid he would vanish in a second. Dean cried silently and clutched at Sam, his legs still wrapped tightly around him. Sam stroked his back and moved them so Dean had his face buried in Sam’s chest, arms wrapped around him like a vice. Sam covered them both up, wrapped his hands around Dean and rubbed his back soothingly, resting his chin on the top of Dean’s head.

“Shhh, Dean, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

_Never gonna be okay. Not without you, Sam._ “Please, Sammy.” (“Shhh.”) “I need you.” (“Shhh. I know. I know.”) “Sammy, please. Please. I need you. Please, Sammy.” (“Shhh.”) “Please, Sammy.”

Sam stroked his hair and hummed ‘Hey Jude’ (that stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid song) until Dean fell asleep, still crying and pleading into Sam’s skin.  _Please, Sammy._ _Please don’t leave me._


End file.
